Chapter 9: The Last Light
The sky was black, not with night, but with the shadow of a god. Clouds churned like boiling ink, casting down a darkness so thick it strangled even the stars. The air was cold, bitter with ash and death. Somewhere in that darkness, a heartbeat pulsed—deep, thunderous, and wrong.
Kael stood alone at the gates of the ruined city of Lumeria, once the cradle of the world's greatest magic. The stones beneath his feet still glowed faintly with the memory of sunlight. He could feel the echoes of his ancestors, the Sun Mages who had stood here centuries ago—strong, proud, and now… gone.
All gone.
He tightened his fingers around the Sunstone. It pulsed in his palm, weaker than ever. A shard of the First Flame, it had been passed down through generations, growing dimmer with every war, every failure. Now, it was nearly dead.
Just like him.
Behind him, the remnants of humanity waited. Warriors, mages, children, mothers—two hundred souls who had refused to kneel to the dark. Among them, Elira stood, blood streaking her armor, eyes locked on Kael with a thousand unsaid things between them.
"You don't have to face him alone," she said, stepping beside him.
Kael looked at her—really looked. Her hair was tangled, her sword chipped, her spirit exhausted. Yet she burned with defiance.
"I do," he said quietly. "This is my burden."
"It was never just yours."
He wanted to argue, but the sky cracked with lightning, and the air grew heavy. Time itself trembled as something vast approached. Kael turned away from her, heart heavy.
A figure emerged from the darkness. Ten feet tall, cloaked in shadow and flame, with eyes like dying suns—Umbros, the god of shadows, the eater of light, the ancient enemy who had slept for a thousand years and now awoke to finish what he began.
"So," the god rumbled, voice like a collapsing mountain. "The last Sun Mage. A candle, flickering in the storm."
Kael stepped forward. "I'm the wildfire that follows."
Umbros laughed, a sound that shook the bones of the earth. "You're nothing. The light is dead."
Kael raised the Sunstone. "Then I'll be its ghost."
He launched forward, and the sky exploded.
Magic clashed in storms of gold and black. Fire danced with shadow. Kael's sword burned with sunlight as he struck, parried, dodged—each move fueled by desperation and memory. He remembered his mother's lullabies, his father's final stand, the monastery where he'd trained, the day he first lit the Sunstone with his own hands.
And he remembered the screams. The burning cities. The children buried in rubble.
He fought not for glory, but for the right to hope.
Umbros moved like darkness incarnate—vast, impossible, eternal. Every blow from his obsidian blade carved through the earth. Every breath summoned wraiths that clawed at Kael's mind. The shadows whispered his name, tempting him with sleep, with surrender.
But Kael roared back with the voice of every soul who had ever believed in the light.
The battle raged for what felt like hours. Every spell Kael cast burned a year from his life. Every strike he endured fractured his bones. But still he stood.
And still the Sunstone dimmed.
Until finally, Umbros struck him down.
Kael crashed into the ground, the Sunstone rolling from his fingers. Blood filled his mouth. His limbs wouldn't move.
Umbros loomed above him. "It ends here."
Kael looked up. Through the blur of blood and tears, he saw the sky cracking—not from shadow, but from light. Behind Umbros, the sun rose.
Not the true sun—it had long since died—but something born from belief, from will.
Elira stood at the top of the broken tower, the Sunstone in her hands. It had answered her.
It had chosen them.
She hurled the Sunstone down.
Kael caught it.
And it shattered in his hands.
But from the shards came light. Not golden. Not warm. But fierce, white, pure.
Kael rose, his body breaking, burning, becoming.
He was no longer a mage. He was the sun itself.
The shadows screamed as he rose above the battlefield, light radiating from every inch of him. Umbros staggered back, the first sign of fear in his immortal eyes.
Kael raised his hand.
And spoke the final spell.
"Sol Invictus."
The world turned white.
When the light faded, Kael was gone.
Umbros was ash.
And the Sunstone was whole again, lying at the center of a crater, pulsing quietly.
The survivors found it days later. Elira picked it up, holding it against her heart.
A whisper echoed in her mind: "The light never dies. It changes hands."
Years passed.
The world healed.
The story of the Last Sun Mage became legend, then myth. But those who had seen him knew the truth.
Kael was not dead.
He was watching, waiting, from beyond the veil of light.
And should the shadows rise again…
So would he.
End of Chapter 9.
If you want the full version as a downloadable file (PDF, Word, etc.), or if you'd like to continue the story in a sequel (like Rise of the Sunborn), let me know!
L'auteur:
Abdelali Aitali